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SUNSHINE, RAIN, AND 
ROSES 



BY 

ALLIE SHARPE BALCH 

ii 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

Gbe Iftmcketbocker press 

1911 



■A rr S f 
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Copyright, 1910 

BY 

ALLIE SHARPE BALCH 



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ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

The verses in this volume originally appeared in the 
Washington Herald. They have been collected at the 
request of many readers of the Herald, and are repro- 
duced now by permission of its editor, Scott C. Bone, 
whose courtesy the author wishes to acknowledge. 



in 



t- 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

44 Good for Your Wholesome" 3 

A 44 Wharf-Rat" 5 

The All-Right Boy 8 

What 's the Use? io 

Stan' up dar, Brudders, an' Sing .... 12 

Trouble . . .16 

Subjugation . .20 

White Lilacs 22 

Redemption . .24 

Open the Shutters 25 

Mignonette -27 

Oak Hill Lilacs 30 

Sunshine, Rain, and Roses 34 

Missy April Comin' down de Road .... 36 

A Little Orphan 38 

Recompense ........ 40 

The Night-Time Garden 43 

44 Friendship Fete" ....... 46 

Rear- Admiral George B. Balch .... 48 

Darkness and Light 50 

A War-Time Mirage 52 

The Crossed Swords^ 54 

44 Something" 56 

Conquered! 59 

Joy 60 

Fulfilment .62 

Crowded Hours 64 

44 Let 's Run Away" 66 

"TheeandMe" 68 

V 



vi Contents 

PAGE 

Love 70 

The Answer 72 

The Old Stone Seat ■ 74 

Red Cherries . . 77 

Where the Wild Waves Foam 79 

Summer ......... 80 

On the Threshold 82 

June 84 

Christ Risen 85 

Thanksgiving 88 

Joy Bells ......... 90 

Just You 92 

My School 94 

What is Optimism? .96 

October 98 

Queen Autumn! ....... 100 

Rock Creek Park . 102 

Sea-Gulls 104 

"Yeo Ho, My Hearty!" 107 

y- — -Beddie House Time 109 

Affinity 111 

The Oarsman 113 

''Life in the Old Man yet" . . . . .115 
Live Stock . . . . . . . .117 

The Little Red Cradle 119 

Twilight 122 

The Valley of the Shadow 125 

Behind the Shutters 127 

The Little Brass Teakettle ..... 130 



Sunshine, Rain, and Roses 



"GOOD FOR YOUR WHOLESOME" 

JES' kick dat ball of trouble good an' strong; 
Forget to frown, jes' sing a little song. 
Life is u chuck-a-block " of what you make it, 
An' the bestes' way to take it 
Am to kick that ball of trouble right along. 

You kin wipe away each tear 

Wid de kerchief of good cheer, 

An' kick dat ball of trouble right along. 

You kin cut away all ill 

Wid de penknife of good will ; 

An' kick dat ball of trouble good an' strong. 

One little sugar-coated pill 

Of kindness soon can kill 

All de allopathic malice in de heart; 

De soul will wholesome grow, 

An' de way to keep it so 

Am to kick de ball of trouble good an' strong. 

You can see de sun a-shinin' froo de rain, 
If you kick dat ball of trouble once again; 
3 



4 " GOOD FOR YOUR WHOLESOME " 

Jes' toughen up your muscle, 
An' make dat trouble fellow tussle; 
You '11 find him mighty weak when you am good an' 
strong. 

Den blow de bellows of sweet laughter an' of song, 
Take up de jew's-harp, beat de good ole gong. 
Ole Man Trouble he dun sneak away, 
An' Mistah Joy-heart he dun come an' stay, 
When you double up your muscle good an' strong. 



A "WHARF-RAT" 

JUST a little wharf-rat, but he 's full of pluck and 
go; 
He 's always up and smiling, and has no tale of woe. 
Born close beside a gutter — lips never taught to 

pray- 
But an unseen power teaches him to walk in wisdom's 
pleasant way. 

Just a child of chance, to hardest fortune born, 
Always up and smiling, for blows, abuse, and scorn, 
Never once a murmur nor a groan against his fate; 
Never begs for justice from his degraded state. 

He isn't worth a copper; he hasn't any "style"; 
He wears trousers full of patches and a broad and 

happy smile. 
He 's dirty and he 's ragged, with a mop of unkempt 

hair; 
His little face is never clean, his feet are always bare. 

But he 's "all boy!" — has a merry soul that 's full of 

grit. 
If you ask him if he has a home, he '11 only laugh and 

say: 

5 



"Gwan! what 'cher givin' me; has I got a home? 

Nit. 
I jes' roosts on anything that haps to come my way." 

Just a little wharf-rat — poor, despised, unclean — 
But he is no "mollycoddle"; his wits are bright and 

keen. 
You '11 find he is no beggar by your bounteous bounty 

fed; 
You can trust this little wharf -rat to earn his daily 

bread. 



Just a little wharf -rat; with grit he trudges on. 
His heart is full of sunshine, his throat is full of song. 
He may not be as free from guilt as he is from wealth, 
But his soul is full of heaven's peace and his body 
glows with health. 

Just a little wharf -rat; no mother's hope and joy; 
But he bears a Napoleon mark, this little orphan boy. 
He does not want your pity; he does not cringe and 

cry; 
And if you call him "coward" he '11 fling you back 

the lie. 



Just a little wharf -rat; but his laugh rings out true; 
He 's not afraid to look at you with his honest eyes 
of blue. 



A wharf-rat, a little pauper, at whom you fling your 

bone. 
1 11 chance him with you or me to reach the Great 

White Throne. 



THE ALL-RIGHT BOY 

HERE 'S to the all-right boy! The ten-year-old, 
With his red corpuscles and his step so bold. 
He *s broad in shoulders, can "square up" his chest. 
Is it the good or the bad in him we love best? 

Steady and strong, honest and true, 
Is this all-right boy, from his cap to his shoe; 
Blest with that sweet simplicity of thought 
So rarely found, and never to be bought. 

He is winning and endearing, artless and kind, 
The loveliest pattern of an all-right mind ; 
He is full of his frolic,, he 's active and bold, 
A little child in years, but with wisdom old. 

He 's little, but he has a grip like steel ; 
He smiles up in your face, and at once you feel 
There is something still in this world for you — 
A friendship as loyal as the skies are blue. 

He is a true-blue comrade, right straight through, 
The very spirit of joy — I love him, don't you? 
His little face is like a well-lit lamp ; 
Of manly courage and pluck he bears the stamp. 

8 



THE ALL-RIGHT BOY 9 

He is not a "polished fancy," he is not a "Fauntle- 

roy"; 
He wants short hair and trousers long, this all-right 

boy; 
He 's sometimes cross and ugly, but the oil of love 

is underneath; 
The truth in him is Heaven-born, he takes falsehood 

by the teeth. 

His little body is healthy and strong, he has plenty 

of muscle and bone; 
Sometimes he " lands me a couple for luck," his little 

fist feels like a stone; 
He 's fond of his books — but he 's a fighter by birth; 
If it's defeat or victory, "he's there" for all it is 

worth. 

He 's happy and contented, in love with his lot, 
Filled with the wine of laughter, though his temper 

gets hot; 
When the clouds blacken 'round me his love turns 

them to gold. 
This all-right boy is teaching me how to reach 

Heaven's fold. 



WHAT'S THE USE? 

WHAT 'S the use of being a maker of war, 
When you can be a maker of love? 
What 's the use of looking into the grave, 
When you can see the clear sky above? 
What 's the use of getting down to the milk, 

When right on top is the cream? 
What 's the use of stirring up the mud 
To smirch the clear of the stream? 

What 's the use of getting lonesome? 

There is always work and play; 
What 's the use* of being downcast? 

We can laugh and sing and pray; 
What 's the use of raking ashes 

While the coals still glimmer red? 
Just because the flowers are frozen, 

That *s no sign the roots are dead. 

What *s the use of living 

If our eyes refuse to see 
That the stars shine all the brighter 

When the frost is on the tree? 
10 



WHAT'S THE USE? II 

What *s the use of always thinking we are 

"Passing under the rod"? 
Is n't it better now and then to think 

We have the smile of God? 

What 's the use of thinking 

Our lives are broken and wasted? 
We can't live a long, long while 

On the joys that we have tasted ; 
When the flowers stop their blooming 

We can always find the holly; 
There 's lots of use in a big, big bluff 

And "just playing" at being jolly. 

Just pucker up and whistle 

If your soul has lost its song; 
If your harp strings are all broken, 

Beat music on the gong. 
What 's the use of being a "weeping wilier"? 

Like the pine, hold up your head. 
Oh, what 's the use of living 

If you let your soul get dead? 



STAN' UP DAR, BRUDDERS, AN' SING 

I'SE gwine ter stop bein' a mole huntin' foh de 
wum — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an* sing; 
Lakwise give up lookin' foh dat sickly old jum — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 
I 'se gwine to step lively an' limbah up my jints — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 
'Caze while de man appints, de good Lawd disap- 
pints — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing. 

I 'se gwine to stan' straight lak de big pine tree — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 
I 'se gwine to light my candle — so you-all kin see — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 
I 'se gwine to be lak Lijah, an' fin' de good meat — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 
You all pat de Jubah — and Ah '11 keep movin' my 
feet — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an* sing. 

I 'se gwine to sprinkle bone-dust on dis ole shell of 
mine — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 

12 



STAN' UP DAR, BRUDDERS, AN* SING 13 

Sose it '11 grow to be de melon — instade of de rine — 
Stan' up dar, you-all, an' sing; 

I 'se gwine to see de stahs a-shinin' froo de fog — 
Stan' up dar, you-all, an' sing; 

Come on, my brudders ! Jine me in de good ole jog — 
Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 

Doan' sit doun by de fiah an' think you-all doin* 
good — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 

To keep dat fiah burnin' you-all mus' tote de wood — 
Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 

Jes' git a new mainspring in de watch of life — 
Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 

Jes' be huntin' foh de joy — an' play de fiddle an' de 
fife- 
Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 

Cum out frum de shade of dat ole trubble tree — 

Stan' up dar, you-all gray heads, an' sing; 
De sun am a-shinin' foh you an' foh me — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing, 
Doan' break doun de doah — caze de key won't fit — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 
De good Lawd will make de doah an' key hit — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 

You-all won't get scrunched if you hole tight to de 
rope — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 



14 STAN* UP DAR, BRUDDERS, AN* SING 

Doan' stan* in de ditch an' fill yoah soul full of dope — 
Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 

Jes' keep de blood abounding froo you-all's veins — 
Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 

Stir up de foam of love — an' you-all forgit yoah 
pains — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 



Wake up dar, you-all gray heads — jes ' listen to my 
talk- 
Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 

Jes' you-all git young an' hungry an' staht de big 
Cakewalk — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 

Jes' take up de oil can and poah out love's bam — 
Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing ; 

Shov' off de wolf skin, turn into de lam' — 
Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 



Stop toten roun' dat trubble, foah de good lan's 
sake — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 
Jes' toss it away — wid de big love rake — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 
If you-all see de staum a-poahin' from de skies — 

Jes' you-all stan' up an' sing; 
Aftah dat staum 's ovah, de sun am boun' to rise — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 



STAN* UP DAR, BRUDDERS, AN' SING 15 

You-all doan' hab to listen to Leah de raven croak — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 
Mistah Abam Lincum tole us that you-all moke — 

Stan' up dar, brudders, an' sing; 
Tune up dar choiah ! Give us Long Metah — slow — 

Stan' up, you-all, an' sing; 
Praise de good Lawd from whar all blessin's dun 
flow — 

Stan* up dar, brudders, an' sing. 



TROUBLE 

TROUBLE is easy to bear after it 's once been 
told, 
It 's not good to keep in the heart, to nourish and to 

hold, 
So tell it to the sun and air, to God's skies so blue, 
Tell it to Mother Nature, she will take care of you. 

Tell it to the soft night breeze, it will lull you to 

repose; 
Tell it to the stately pines, whisper it to a rose. 
"There hath no trouble taken thee" but comes to 

one and all. 
Some cups are clay, some are gold; what matter if 

wine be gall? 

On the heights of joy or the depths of pain, smiling 

comes sweet Hope, 
When trouble lets thee down too far she takes hold 

of the rope; 
She keepeth thy heart warm with love, and trouble 

soon grows cold, 
Just as the sun in a cloudy sky changes it into gold. 

16 



TROUBLE 17 

When a farmer sows his seed, he does not look behind; 
Forward he goes with busy hands, hope is in his 

mind. 
When his work is finished he waits for the ripening 

grain, 
And while he prays for sunshine he also asks for rain. 

If trouble seems too hard to bear, let the shadows fall 

apart, 
Open wide thy soul's big door into Nature's heart, 
List to her voices, great and small, no special place 

of prayer; 
She has no confessional, her ear is everywhere. 

Go thou and listen where singing waters run 
Over the stones rippling, proud in duty done; 
Go to where the dew of the morning kisses the mignon- 
ette, 
Then turns to breathe a blessing on the baby violet. 

Oh, trouble is easy to bear after it 's once been told, 
So forget the day that 's been so gray in the sunset's 

gold; 
Go thou and watch the snowflakes falling, fluttering 

down. 
Dost thou see the black of the earth getting its pure 

white crown? 

Nature is the mother to whom the truth is known, 
So when trouble troubles thee, tell it to her alone ; 



1 8 TROUBLE 

Tell her all thy heart-breaks, tell her love and fear, 
She will understand thy longing and wipe away 
each tear. 

Forget the coward, Trouble, with his scarred and 

naked breast. 
The cross is gold and silver that against thy heart is 

pressed ; 
Go to Mother Nature with thy sorrow and despair, 
And while the angels guard thee, kneel with her in 

prayer. 

Tell thy troubles to Nature, for thro' her we trace 
The features and the tender smile on the Father's 

face; 
So lift thy voice in music, in one impassioned song, 
And thy overburdened heart will not be troubled 

long. 

The world is full of beauty, tho' some days are so 

drear, 
But in trouble's darkest hour the Father standeth 

near. 
We hunger for Nature's sunshine, but I know it is true 
That when trouble comes from loving we want her 

shadows, too. 

Lilacs beside love's porches, mignonette inside the 

gate, 
The scent of the blossoms of Eden if troubled hearts 

can wait. 



TROUBLE 19 

Go to Mother Nature when thou thinkest thou must 

repine, 
Be thou glad to bear thy trouble if great love, too, 

be thine. 



SUBJUGATION 

OH, bars of silver sweeping into the river's mist, 
Oh, the lengthening shadows, the setting sun 

has kissed, 
The nightingale's good-night song, sweetest music 

rare, 
While the breath of lotus blossoms grows faint in 

odorous air, 
Rare fragrance of burnt incense, with breath of 

flowers blent, 
Perfumes the air that fans me with passion eloquent. 
So, night lies steeped in slumber till dawn will veil 

the stars, 
And Venus has ^rown tired of yielding love to Mars. 
Then Dawn in her sweet glory will ask to be Night's 

bride, 
And Night, who came to conquer, will lie conquered 

by her side. 
Of all the glowing triumphs, this shall the lustre dim; 
Night conquering sweet Daylight, and she conqueror 

of him. 
So in the teeth of triumph, and floating on the wind, 
Sweet Daylight knows her victory and conquered 

field behind, 

20 



SUBJUGATION 21 

How stirs the blood within her when the birds but 

call Night's name. 
At thought of his embraces her pulses leap into flame ; 
She lives but half her being until again she tastes 
The rapture of Night's kisses. — Haste, my King ! Oh, 

haste! 
Bring out my golden sunrise, bring out my diadem, 
I '11 'tire me for the victor with every flaming gem. 
Night scorned all other triumphs; he revelled in 

Dawn's charms, 
For all the world he cared for he held within his arms. 
Then Death came and overpowered them; Love's 

star refused to shine. 
But Death alone is royal, and only Love divine, 
Each met to slay the other, each became the slain. 
But, by the great Jehovah! they'd die that death 

again. 



WHITE LILACS 

LITTLE Prince Spring stirred in his sleep, 
And called, "Wake up, you lilacs sweet! 
Come, tumble out of your winter's nest, 
For of all my sweethearts I love you best." 

Come, wake up; it 's broad daylight, 

God waits for your bloom, so pure and white; 

This is your time to reign supreme 

And fill sad hearts with love's old dream. 

There 's a brave blue sky, and a glad wind, too, 
And the grass so clean, just washed with dew; 
The sun is laughing, the rain runs away, 
Come, breathe out your fragrance, white lilacs, to-day. 

Come forth, white lilacs, you sweethearts of Spring. 
There 's a glory in every white star you bring ; 
Your fragrance brings laughter, brings a flood of 

tears, 
For the days that were joyous, for the long, sad years. 

Come, bloom for the cloister, bloom for the saint, 
Bloom for the Magdalen, whose soul is faint, 
Bloom for God, for the living and for the dead, 
For the widow who mourns, for the bride just wed. 

22 



WHITE LILACS 23 

The tulips are crimson with passion, the flowers of 

blue are "true," 
But you flowers of the pure white stars, I chant my 

song to you; 
I fling wide open my casement to love and lilacs white, 
Your sweetness is God's fire, your whiteness God's 

own light. 

When life's work is ended, and "I lay me down to 

sleep, " 
Sweet friend, I will not want your tears, I ask you 

not to weep ; 
A little song, a sigh perchance, then kneel thee down 

and pray, 
That I may enter Heaven's door, in my hand a lilac 

spray. 



REDEMPTION 

MY heart is full of praise and prayer to-day, 
And Heaven seems not very far away; 
I know the breeze comes on no lighter wing, 
But there 's a touch of music that my soul must sing. 

Only yesterday not a bird sang out, 

My soul o'erflowed with sadness and with doubt; 

But, oh ! to-day brings such harmonious things, 

The quiet brook of yesterday to-day its music sings. 

So beautiful the whole world seems to me, 
Melodious comes the call across the sea, 
Soul and sense seem linked with fair surprise 
And I look forth with new created eyes. 

But yesterday all life seemed tented round 
With sadness; with chains my soul seemed bound, 
The passing clouds trailed darkness on my heart, 
And like a frightened child I feared the dark. 

But, oh! to-day I feel the sun bright in the air, 
And love and joy encompass everywhere; 
I know the praise of worlds from lips of one. 
Is it a dream, or has my Heaven begun? 

24 



OPEN THE SHUTTERS 

OPEN up the shutters, do not slumber in your 
"shell." 
Let your love be kindled by an optimistic spell; 
Open up the shutters wide, let your gladness rest 
On the dark edge of, a soul that is not so blest. 

God's bright sun is shining, like an answered prayer, 
The sky is all a-smiling; the happy day is fair; 
Only a "common" sun, in a very common sky. 
Open wide the shutters, then, for some hungry heart 
close by. 

Open up the shutters, let your song outpour 

A thousand melodies never heard before. 

Give the world your music, your banquet, your wine; 

Blest will be the feast and the pleasure all be thine. 

Open up the shutters and you '11 be sure to throw 
A ray into some sad life that will thrive and grow. 
Open wide the shutters — whistle, shout, and sing — 
And close to the aim of an optimist you '11 cling. 

Open up the shutters ; it is God's own way, 
And the sun of love and joy will be yours to-day. 

25 



26 OPEN THE SHUTTERS 

The "Common Master, " in His Heaven, never meant 

to pen 
His glorious mansion up from "ordinary" men. 

Open up the shutters, lips of laughter, eyes of light; 
Wake up ! help the sun to make this old world bright. 
Little do you know the cheer you can give each day 
To some sad and weary soul waiting by the way. 

Open up the shutters, the big world's greatest need 
Is ready help far more than solemn prayer and creed. 
Take up some one's burden; be glad to share a part. 
Bring back God's blessed sunshine to some poor sick 
heart. 

Open wide the shutters, pass out the cup of life; 
With muscle and the mind to share sorrow, toil, and 

strife. 
The very best of living is to give out breathing space. 
Open wide the shutters; perhaps you '11 see God's face. 

! 

Open wide the shutters; from the hinges take all rust; 
Let the hand of "good fellowship" remove from 

them the dust. 
To some soul standing on the brink give your love 

out free: 
Don't you hear the Master's voice? "Do thou this 

for Me." 



MIGNONETTE 

I BRING you Mignonette, your lips give forth no 
sound; 
Sweetheart, where are you? your soul cannot be 

found. 
The Mignonette and I ask honest speech from you; 
Come, open up your heart, our love-time to renew. 

Mignonette made sweeter by the kisses of the rain, 
Your sweet lips are silent, let their music speak 

again; 
Well, give your pride full rein awhile, wilful tho' it be, 
I 'd rather ten times bend to you than you should 

bend to me 



Now my heart 's as glad as Heaven, tho' you do not 

speak; 
Come: lay your head in its old place, close against 

my cheek; 
Lie here in the shadow, the Mignonette in your hair, 
While the night clouds drop around you, my love so 

sweet, so fair. 

27 



28 MIGNONETTE 

The white sand sinking to your limbs, the only murmur 

near 
The music of the ocean wave, low tuned to meet your 

ear; 
You 're thinking how one dear day, when summer 

suns were warm, 
The Mignonette upon your breast, your head upon 

my arm, 

The sea sang quiet love songs, sang you sweet and 

measured words, 
But your own were sweeter, and the music of the 

birds 
From the garden chimed in softly, but I loved your 

voice the best, 
And wished all others ended, the little birds at rest. 

Sweetheart, I am so glad my heart is great enough 

to hold 
You close and warm and dear, tho' I thought you 

weak and cold, 
Low thro' the tides of my soul, as a jewel that is 

thrown 
'Mid the waters, still lies hoarded, when the ripple 

is all gone. 

Sometimes love wanders far away, clad in hermit's 
guise, 

Then comes knocking at the heart, with wet, up- 
lifted eyes; 



MIGNONETTE 29 

It was the Mignonette that told you, sweetheart, 

please don't cry; 
Listen, honey, listen, did you think my love could 

die? 

White lilacs and Mignonette, sweetest of God's 

flowers, 
They shall reign and love shall reign in these souls 

of ours; 
Your head is bending lower; come, sweetheart, don't 

delay, 
The Mignonette brought you back, your heart as 

warm as May. 

Love's warm web around you, I could smile and know 
You had not forgotten, tho' you fain would have it so. 
So God gives you back to me, from sorrow's distant 

lands, 
My own sweet bride to be, Mignonette in your hands. 

Then if the Father should send word that He needs 
you so, 

At the rising of the sun I would have to let you go ; 

But e'en tho' God's arms held you fast, you would 
not forget 

To sometimes send back to me your soul, in Mignon- 
ette. 



OAK HILL LILACS 

HOW quiet they are, each star serene, 
Sheltered and loved by their leaves of green ; 
Born of the south wind and sun's warm flame, 
A message from heaven to earth they came. 

Sweet white lilacs, has an angel been there, 
Still and quiet, and his soul laid bare? 
Did God send him back this April day 
To sweeten and glorify thy way? 

Did he come with flutter of unseen wings 
And kiss you into sweet star-like things? 
Was it his hopeful Smile and merry shout 
That brought your pure white blossoms out? 

Did his soul stand open, his eyes unseal? 
Did he, white lilacs, his love reveal? 
Did a laughing face and a merry spell 
Deep in the heart of his spirit dwell? 

Or did you spring up from deaths dark room 
And for love of him burst into bloom? 
Sweet white lilacs, bending o'er his grave, 
Don't tell him I am neither strong nor brave. 

30 



OAK HILL LILACS 3 1 

Sweet white lilacs, in your cups divine, 
Do you hold the kiss that once was mine? 
Here where there 's naught but the quiet of death, 
Close on your lips have you felt his breath? 



Sweet white lilacs of springtime, alive with the pulse 

of years, 
Pure as the down on a dove's wing, watered in dew 

and tears, 
Thy raiment bears love's odor and the color the 

angels wear, 
The wind falls faint when near thee, so sweet thou 

art and fair. 



Sweet white lilacs of love-time, the flowers he used 

to know, 
Here in this graveyard garden how pure thy blossoms 

blow 
Under the oak tree's shadow, close to the fulness of 

death, 
Thine the triumph of living, the earth made sweet 

with thy breath. 

Lilacs of the springtime, when love is at its height, 
When the world is glorified all the day and night, 
Hath God told thee a secret? I hear thy low replies, 
And there in the heart of thy blossoms I see his 
love-lit eyes. 



32 OAK HILL LILACS 

Sweet white lilacs, dropping and shaking thy plumy 

sheaves, 
Is it love or death that whispers among thy glossy 

leaves? 
What is the wind a-singing, a blessed song of peace, 
Or a far-away love tune that will never, never cease? 

Lilacs, pure white lilacs, is his spirit near? 
Whisper thro' thy fragrance, let my sad heart hear; 
Thro' the oak trees' shadows, out of the curtained 

gloom, 
Did you bring him with you, away from death's 

dark room? 

White, white spirits of springtime, alive with happy 

breath, 
Out of the cradle of nature, out of the blackness of 

death; 
Born of the reeking soil, but pure in beauty and 

bloom, 
Unspotted as the Master's robe, springing from out 

the tomb. 

Out of death's dark chamber, flowers with white 

souls bare, 
Infinite, alive, beautiful, blossoming in sun-lit air! 
Rapturous, sweet, and transient, and to my soul it 

seems 
White lilacs bloom to bless me and bring love back 

to my dreams! 



OAK HILL LILACS 33 

Sweet white lilacs of love-time, so pure each star- 
shaped flower, 

Soft and still as the passing of sleep, born and dead 
in an hour; 

But I had the sweet of thee living, and in thy passing 
it seemed 

The light and glory of loving was only a dream half 
dreamed. 



SUNSHINE, RAIN, AND ROSES 

THE lips of red roses are moist with Rain's kiss; 
The jealous old Sun says, "We'll have none 
of this ; 
The roses are mine, I am filled with desire, 
I will draw their hearts open with my rays of fire." 

So the Sun melted all of Rain's kisses away, 
The roses are dancing 'round Sun's May-pole to-day; 
The little green katydids, full of sparkle and life, 
Have joined in the frolic with fiddle and fife. 

There *s a lot of amorous kissing in the branches of 

the trees, 
All around the clover beds the singing of the bees. 
The sweet, red roses have not said their prayers in 

vain, 
For all the world is beautiful after God's refreshing 

rain. 

Sweet songs to sing, sweet love to tell, 
The rain to make the red buds swell ; 
Songs and love, and red roses, too, 
Need a touch of fire to make them true. 

34 



SUNSHINE, RAIN, AND ROSES 35 

So with soul aflame and blood afire 

The Sun kissed the red roses into mad desire; 

He clasped them, and crushed them, with sweet 

delight, 
And ne'er grew tired until day grew night. 

Then I heard them whisper, "We've not lived in 

vain; 
We 've been crowned with Sun's fire, grew sweet with 

his flame, 
And now out of the flood- tide of passion and pain, 
With bowed heads we pray for 'the cool' of the rain." 



MISSY APRIL COMIN' DOWN DE ROAD 

CLAR de way, Missy April am comin', 
Doan yo' heah her "musikers" hummin , ? 
De little birds' love songs, de buzzin' ob de bees, 
An' oh, de sweetest music! a-comin' frum de trees. 

Missy April 's comin' jes' as sure as shootin' ; 
Doan yo' heah dem little birds a-tootin'? 
Little Missy Robin is movin' in "Number Three" — 
De ole apartment house, de purple lilac tree. 

De bluebirds am heah, wid der mellow froats, 
An' de robin it am singin' wid de softer notes. 
Missy April am a-comin' down de lovers' lane 
Like a little sunbeam shinin' froo de rain. 

De grass, an' shrubs, an' flowahs grow; 
De earth an' de sky am all aglow; 
Dat little old spidah makin' de lace 
Jes' to kiver up his sweetheart's face. 

Doan yo' see de duck a-buildin' up de nest? 

Go 'way back, Mistah Wintah, an' take a good long 

rest. 
Ants a-climbin' up de ole mulberry tree, 
Suahly dey am busy, jes' as busy as kin be. 

36 



MISSY APRIL COMIN ' DOWN DE ROAD 37 

Missy April's horns am tootin', tootin' all around, 
Callin' all de sleepy fragrance frum out ob de ground. 
Dis ole world dat seem'd so daid am now a libin' 

scene, 
An' de mudder earth am bein' kissed by de tendah 

grass so green. 

Now, little Missy April, if we meet yo' wid our love, 
Will yo' cross yoah heart an' promise to cum in like 

a dove? 
We suahly wants to obsuv de good ole Golden Rule, 
An' if yo' doan go poutin', der will be no "April fool. " 

Get out yo-all's banjo, tie up de broken string; 

Ole man Wintah 's gone away, yo' kin dance wid 

Missy Spring. 
Jes' plunky-de-plunk de banjo, enjoy de laffin' houahs, 
An' doan be jealous of Missy April's hat kase it 's 

made of God's sweet flowahs. 

Little Missy April, de rain am on yo-all's face; 

It makes yo' all de prettiah, an' adds to yoah grace. 

An' I straightway wants to whispuh in yoah little 

ears, 
Dat de very sweetest part ob love am always washed 

in tears. 



A LITTLE ORPHAN 

SAY, yo-all white angels a-floatin' in de sky, 
I wish I wuz yo-all, a-playin' " rock-a-bye " ; 
I wants to be a white cloud, in God's blue sky, too, 
An' I wants to see my mammy, who libs up dar wid 
you. 

Oh, Mammy! I 'se so lonesum; what makes yo-all 

daid? 
I 'se got a pain a-troublin' me an* a misery in my 

haid; 
I wants yo-all to cumfot me, I wants to cuddle in yoah 

lap; 
I wants my HI lull-bye song, I wants to take my HI 

nap. 

Yeho! Mammy, how did de angels git yo' up so high? 
Did yo' hab to clim' a laddah and poke yoah haid 

into de sky? 
Pears lak de angel Gabriel mus' hab took yo* by de 

hand; 
I des he hud yo' sing my lull-bye song an' wants yo* 

in de angel band. 

38 



A LITTLE ORPHAN 39 

Oh, Mammy, Mammy, I 'se so scairt I cyant fin* yo* 

in de baid; 
I cyant fin' my cuddly place, whar I ust to lay my 

haid; 
Mammy, yeho, Mammy! What made yo-all die? 
I wants yo' to sing my ltdl-bye song, I wants my 

"rock-a-bye." 

Mammy, is yo-all still a-laffnV "te hee," jes' dat 

a- way? 
Has yo' tucked a angel in yo' ahms, whar I uster stay — 
Mammy, is yo' jes' de same, is de rheumtiz bofferin' yo' ? 
Mammy, do dem angels rub yoah back, as I uster do? 

I jes' know what I kin do to git right up to yo', 
I jes' will buy some laddahs an' tie dem two by two — 
Den Ah '11 jes' keep on a-climbin' until I 'se up so high 
I kin heah yo-all angels singin' and poke my haid froo 
God's sky. 

Den Ah '11 call "Mammy!" an' yo '11 say, "Heah, in 

de golden swing!" 
, An' Ah '11 run an' cry, "Hide me quick undah yo- 

all's wing. " 
But when God sees me runnin' fast down de hebbenly 

street, 
He '11 jes' take me in His ahms an' say, "Poor tired 

little Pete!" / 



RECOMPENSE 

HATS off to the women who work all day; 
They have mouths to feed and rent to pay; 
Their hearts are young and they dream of play, 
But they must struggle and fight to keep the wolf 
away. 

They fold up the clothes of their dead, weep o'er the 

grave, 
Then they start in to work, try a dollar to save; 
They close the book of loving care, lay it away on the 

shelf, 
Tie up their heart-strings, dry the tears, and fight 

the battle for self. 

They stand behind the counter fine goods to display, 
They must shut their teeth and smile, no matter 

what you say; 
Their heads may be throbbing, but there they must 

stay. 
Hats off to these brave women who work all day! 

They sew and they pin, press out, and baste, 
Not an hour for pleasure, not a minute to waste; 

40 



RECOMPENSE 41 

They scrub and they bake, wash, iron, and brew; 
After this is done they use the typewriter, too. 

When women were made who must work and not 

play, 
God, the sculptor, used His very best clay; 
Mary, the mother of Jesus, who in the manger lay, 
Was one of God's women who worked all day. 

They work in the sunlight, they work in the shade, 
For they know it 's starvation if the dollar 's not 

made; 
They work where it 's quiet, they work where there 's 

strife; 
They do not flinch, do not cry, just work out this life. 

They work at the shuttle, they wind up the spool, 
They bend over the ledger, stand all day in the school; 
Sometimes, in the fields, they work alongside of a 

mule, 
And often it 's just plain every-day work without any 

rule. 

They count out the money, and they don't lose their 

grip; 
They may be tired to death, but they don't droop the 

lip; 
They sew on the buttons, they measure the braid. 
Hats off, and God bless them, whatever their trade! 



42 RECOMPENSE 

Some are wise, some are foolish, some sad, and some 

gay; 
They fight on and steer clear of "The Great White 

Way"; 
Some are young, some are old, tired, and gray. 
Hats off to the women who work all day! 

It will not be the general who rode into the fray, 
Nor the brave men who wore the blue or the gray; 
It will not be the preacher of great renown, 
Who will be the first to receive a crown. 

For this is what the Father to St. Peter will say: 
" Kindly ask all those men to step out of the way, " 
And, standing on a shaft from a golden ray, 
God will crown first the women who work all day. 



THE NIGHT-TIME GARDEN 

THE garden in the night-time so different from 
garden by day, 
Moonlight lies tangled in flowers stretched from 

spray to spray; 
Every flower gleaming white or deep and dark blood- 
red, 
And the nightingale calls his mate in the tree-top 
over head 



All the air a-quiver with the "thridding" of crickets 

a-peep, 
The night-time holds no darkness, just daytime fast 

asleep ; 
The trees cast long, deep shadows, yards of lace upon 

the wall,. 
And the west wind kisses the blossoms, then laughs to 

see them fall. 

The great white moon is crossing earth's heart with 

golden bars 
Through warm, mysterious shadows, the sky afire 

with stars. 

43 



44 THE NIGHT-TIME GARDEN 

There 's a subtle odor of lilacs, crowned with jewels 

of dew, 
And the poignant passion of the past comes back to 

hearts anew. 

Little birds are sleeping where the branches lean, 
In their homes nestling amid the leaves of green; 
Under the shadows of night-time sometimes the world 

is sad — 
Under the warmth of bird wings loving hearts are 

glad. 

Forgotten is the sunshine, forgotten the skies of blue. 
In the night-time garden love finds a welcome, too; 
Love casts his infinite shadow through the hush of 

night, 
And entranced and silent awaits dawn's roseate light. 

In the night-time garden God gives me eyes to see 
Through the flickering shadows the love that grows 

for me — 
Shadows of loyal friendship, through the tree- tops 

sway, 
Shadows of joy and laughter, through the moonbeams 

play. 

In the night-time garden sweet voices whisper low, 

O'er a moonlit track I go back to joys of long ago; 

The spell of old enchantments, the longing to find 
you there, 

I stumble through the shadows in my soul a deep- 
drawn prayer. 



THE NIGHT-TIME GARDEN 45 

In the night-time garden I have untarnished dreams, 
And I wander down love's path lulled by quiet 

streams ; 
Sweetheart, I will listen for your step along the way, 
And you will bring back to me the joys of yesterday. 

In the night-time garden I 'waken from my sleep, 

Sweetheart, it will not matter, if thou love's vigil 
keep, 

If the soul of day be sleeping and God brings the 
night, 

Through the dark will come thy face, with its pas- 
sionate light. 



"FRIENDSHIP FETE" 

JES' listen to dem little bullfrogs talk; 
"Give freely! Give freely!" 
I des dey will try de big cakewalk — 
I des so — really. 

Dem little frogs dey play all day — 

Yes dey do — really. 
Den when bedtime comes dey try to say: 

"Give freely! Give freely." 

Dem little frogs am mighty cute — 

Dey truly is — really. 
I des God taught 1 'em how to toot 

"Give freely! Give freely." 

I jes' know you cyant refuse 

To give freely — freely, 
When dem little frogs get after youse; 

You jes cyant — really. 

Jes' keep on singin* dat sweet old tune, 

"Give freely — give freely, " 
Den from dat "brain storm" you will be immune. 

You jes' will — really. 

46 



<<„„ T „^ TT ^„ T „„ -^V^TT," 



FRIENDSHIP FETE 47 

Well, hyah's my dollah — I '11 make it two — 

"Give freely — give freely." 
Go 'long, Mistah Bullfrog, it 's best I kin do; 

It suahly am — really. 



Thou Gracious God, whose works all bounteous prove 

So freely — so freely ! 
Thy care paternal of the human race — 
E'en in the bullfrog we can trace 

Thy wondrous love — "Give freely!" 



REAR-ADMIRAL GEORGE B. BALCH 

"The flag he loved above him waves." 

DEAR father, at thy grave we humbly kneel; 
Thou art not dead, the vigor of thy love we 
feel; 
No age, no time, could make thee "old"; 
With bold, firm step thou entered Heaven's fold. 

Dear father, God did not find thee "in the rear," 
Thou faced thy Maker with a soul so clear, 
Thy glory shines, "sailor," who so bravely fought 
For love of country "in the front," God thee sought. 

In the nation's home we leave thee " sweetly sleeping" ; 
O'er Chesapeake's clear blue waters the April air is 

creeping, 
The sun has said "good-night," the twilight hour has 

come, 
The "sailor's" last battle fought and bravely won. 

"Taps, " the good-night call sweet from out the gloom 
Burst forth like an angel's smile and quivered on thy 
tomb; 

48 



REAR-ADMIRAL GEORGE B. BALCH 49 

Dear father, "gallant sailor," who wore the coun- 
try's blue, 

The nation's flag was proud to lie down and rest 
with you. 

With step as firm and gallant as of old 
On Easter thou did'st reach the heavenly fold; 
Sailor, Columbia's son, who bore the battle's brunt, 
God hath thy youth renewed and sent thee "to the 
front!" 



DARKNESS AND LIGHT 

WHAT is darkness? Is it love's eclipse, 
A sob from the heart thro' pallid lips? 
Is it hope that 's throttled by despair, 
Or a wayside shadow from everywhere? 

Is it the vale of sorrow moist with tears, 
The drug of silence, in dead black years? 
The Heaven we missed, the soul we sought, 
The requiem mass of impassioned thought? 

Is it longing for death to close love's eyes, 
The soul gone mad with sin-stained sighs? 
Is it the lattice where the nuns look through, 
Or the kneeling Magdalen, in robe of blue? 

Is it the water and crust to bring back strength 

When sorrow has run its weary length? 

Is it the forehead 'gainst his icy feet, 

The symbol of death with each heart-beat? 

Is it the slave of pleasure, with pain o'ercast, 
Or a phantom joy from out the past? 
Is it when prayer puts on unholy guise, 
Or the bitter wail when passion dies? 
50 



DARKNESS AND LIGHT 5 1 

Is it the moisture in the murderer's hand 
Or the blight that falls on a war-like land? 
Is it the stifled soul through rifted gloom 
The house where the "pauper" has no room? 

Is it a pictured bridal without love's feast, 
Or a saint in death robes, chant, and priest? 
Is it the early morn and a funeral train, 
Or the soul's long night when love is slain? 

Is it to crouch and pray at the grave of wrong 
When hot veins cool and days grow long? 
Is it to hold no revel, receive no guest, 
To battle and suffer, and find no rest? 

Light: the holy of holies that mothers know 
That embryo life full perfect grow, 
The madonna love, in all its might 
The soul illumined, with new delight. 

Light: a baby's hand on a mother's breast, 
A man's strong arms, wherein is rest; 
There is no darkness; from His home above, 
God sends the light, with all His love. 



A WAR-TIME MIRAGE 

CAN'T you hear the beating of the big and bois- 
terous drums, 
A mirage of war-time, out of which our soldier comes? 
It is only a dream, that rises from the past, 
And o'er the dust of the dead tears fall thick and fast. 

Can't you see them standing guard, in storm and 

under stars — 
The gallant boys who gloried in their wounds and 

scars? 
Can't you see them pierced with ball, torn with shot 

and shell; 
Can't you see them fighting, full of courage born of 

hell? 

Can't you see them in the struggle for the nation's 

life? 
Can't you hear the yells and shouts as they dash 

into the strife, 
Down the fields of glory, for the right to do or die; 
Can't you hear the cheering, as the flag floats proudly 

by? 

52 



A WAR-TIME MIRAGE 53 

Can't you hear the tramp, tramp, through the fields 

of battles red, 
And the gallop of the cavalry o'er the wounded and 

the dead? 
Only a mirage of war-time coming out of years; 
To-day we bring the flowers watered with our tears. 

Only a mirage of war-time, ended is all strife; 
Blue and gray at rest who fought it life for life. 
Our boys of '61, no time can make them old, 
11 Yank " and "Johnny Reb " together, safe in Heav'n's 
fold. 

The soldiers true, the gallant boys who wore the 

color blue, 
To-day we bring our laurel wreaths to give you 

honor due; 
All honor, too, we give to the regal dust of gray; 
Lee's soul is hovering close to his dear boys to-day. 

Over the hills of peace blended colors gray and blue, 
And God's soldiers are at rest, hearts so brave and 

true; 
Under the flag "Old Glory," where violets kiss the 

sod, 
Bring the sacrament of flowers for our "boys" gone 

home to God. 



THE CROSSED SWORDS 

I HUNG two swords on my wall to-day, 
One fought with the Blue and one with the Gray; 
Both of the blades are covered with rust, 
And the hands that held them, "dust to dust. " 

Both were heroes, both were brave, 
Both fought like tigers their flag to save; 
Both lived it out 'mid grape and shell, 
Both captured colors before they fell. 

Each thought he was the right defending, 
Each thought he was the wrong contending ; 
One spilled his blood for the color Gray, 
The other, for Blue, fought his life away. 

Both knew the glory of a battle gained, 
Both saw their flag tattered and stained; 
Both fought for what they thought was best, 
Both gone into the "whiteness" of eternal rest. 

Each sword bears rust, but not a stain; 
God took that away when the men were slain. 
And this we know, for in God we trust, 
That the Blue and the Gray are God's own dust. 

54 



THE CROSSED SWORDS 55 

And the shadow of passion has passed away, 
Only garlands of love for "our boys" to-day; 
Hushed be all voices, bend low o'er the sod 
Of the Blue and the Gray at peace with God. 



"SOMETHING" 

SOMETHING comes with the soul's full might, 
That yearns and calls till day grows night; 
Is it the shaft of love or the arrow of death? 
Is it to quicken and quiver or gasp for breath? 

Down in my soul I laugh to know 
What 's there God wills to have it so; 
The pulse that 's in each flower and tree 
Something, the same in the heart of me. 

The scent of life that stirs and thrills, 
To the brim with joy my spirit fills; 
The earth is rich to* its very deep, 
All nature awake from its winter sleep. 

I feel as if treading on holy ground, 
Down by the creek where violets are found; 
The dance o' leaves on the fresh green sod, 
Something! Is it love and the breath of God? 

Is it the tide of grass or foam of flowers 
That Love draws open with sunlight hours? 
Something I feel, when they lift their heads, 
God, walking there in the blossoming beds. 

56 



57 

Something calls me when bluebirds sing, 
I listen and tremble, so strange a thing 
In the bursting bud and blossom scent, 
Is it love or death for me is meant? 

All night long in death's garden gray 
Sad are the things the oak trees say; 
Something! Was it God that answered me? 
Or love and death keeping company? 

Heartbreaking things that won't stay dead, 
Something night long — uncomforted. 
But when I awakened, it was morning time, 
Something grew sweet with song and rhyme. 

When my singing voice grew full of tears, 
The song of sorrow, of long, sad years, 
Something listened, something smiled, 
Oh! 'twas the love of a little child. 

Sighing and laughing, love and tears, 
Something — is it the fruit of years? 
The fighting soul that still holds flame; 
The glad sweet thrill of the goodly game! 

Something — the glory of trees and flowers; 
Touched is my soul with living powers. 
Something that comes with the winds of the South, 
The dip of Love's wings, the kiss of his mouth. 



58 "something 

Father, God; how great Thou art; 
Thy touch that vibrates in my heart. 
Thy pulse in every flower and tree 
Something — the same Thou grantest me. 



CONQUERED! 

AFTER the organ grew silent, after the hush of 
prayer, 
Love came, a vestal virgin, and laid her offering there. 
The stars came out from the twilight gray, 
And the doves rocked to sleep in the fading day. 

Fierce and loud through the woodland wide 
Came a voice from the depth of the mountainside ; 
Out from the forest the deep voice rang 
And over the pathway Passion sprang. 

Love hung over the wild sea's edge, 
And knelt in prayer on the rocky ledge; 
With head bowed down and quivering eye, 
She listened and heard wild Passion's cry. 

Deep in the thickets the boughs unclasp, 
Passion crushed the vines sure and fast, 
And clearing the path, panting, stood 
By trembling Love, with leaping blood. 

Baffled Love, so pure, so sweet, so fair, 
Exultant Passion watched, crouching there; 
Love neither shrank nor fled, but closer pressed, 
And, sobbing, laid her head on Passion's breast. 

59 



JOY 

OUT from Joy's bugle's ringing throat 
Sped so long and wild a note, 
From hill to hill the signal rang, 
And a flight of arrowy echoes sprang. 

Deep in the heart of Love's wooded dell 
Joy sang his notes like a silver bell; 
My heart, upleaping at the sound, 
Grew strong and eager as a leashed hound. 

Joy singeth his song in Love's forest deep; 
He cometh in dreams to my midnight sleep ; 
He bendeth over my noonday rest, 
Laying his head to sleep upon my breast. 

Oh! the noontide shadows are sweet and soft, 
And the night-clouds smile in the sky aloft. 
Joy, that stirreth the shadowy pine, 
Never was voice so sweet as thine. 

Joy opens the book that has shut in the night 
And turns over the leaves to the silver light. 
Oh, the wind is high, the clouds fly fast, 
The stars are out, and the rain is past, 

60 



JOY 61 

Joy, silent or songful, thou are close to Love's sea, 
I listen and wonder if thy song 's meant for me. 
Joy, flower of God, look down from the skies, 
Come and gladden my heart with thy laughing eyes. 

De Profundus! My soul is so full of complaining, 
There 's a fear in my heart that joy be a-waning. 
Cling close to me, Joy, lest I waken in sadness. 
Put a song in my throat, fill my cup up with gladness. 

Te Deum Laudamus! Joy comes close and crowns 

me; 
Avaunt, then, all the black clouds that surround me, 
Joy kisses my lips, bids me forget self, and give 
All the love of my soul all the days that I live. 



FULFILMENT 

OH, love leaps free in the red rose's heart, 
Light as the quick-footed breezes that part 
The plumy ferns on the mountainside; 
But thy step is lighter, my love, my bride. 

Sweet as the south winds that come and pass 
And caress the lake and billowy grass, 
So to my heart come nigher, come higher, 
Thou pearl beyond price, my bride, my desire. 

I feel thy kiss in the leafy aisle, 

I meet the light of thy haunting smile 

In the shell that moans for the distant sea, 

In the silvery boughs of the forest tree. 

The wind sings soft in the shadowy pine; 
Never was voice so sweet as thine. 
O'er the dark mountain the sunlight is bleak. 
Come, sing thy song, for my soul grows weak. 

The livelong day I have wandered on. 
Now the stars are out, the twilight gone. 
Woe is me when I watch and pray 
For the soft, sweet notes of thy summer lay. 

62 



FULFILMENT 63 

Come, sing thy song; from slumber break. 
I need thee so, my bride, awake! 
Who 'neath the tracks of stars save thee 
Speaketh or singeth of love to me? 

The strong north wind tears the rose apart. 
Thinkest thou I could halve my heart? 
No death, no time, shall ever see 
The strength that takes my soul from thee. 

Beloved, my bride, amid love's fire 
Hath thy glory gone, thy mad desire? 
Is thy pulse asleep in thy silent breast? 
Then come, sweet death, and give thee rest. 

Let there be a dirge thro* the forest drear, 
And a white-robed priest to thine icy bier. 
Thy soul in life, so tightly sealed 
To me, in death will be revealed. 



CROWDED HOURS 

THE hours are crowded through and through, 
But always room for thoughts of you; 
In sunrise glow, or sunset's skies, 
Come gentle glances of your eyes. 

Sometimes the hours are hard to bear; 
None near to comfort, none to care, 
And something vibrates in my heart 
In which you have no conscious part. 

I sing aloud tho' eyes grow wet ; 
My soul is yours, you can't forget, 
In crowded hours enthroned, enswirled, 
I hold you close, you are my world. 

Crowded hours, not much rest, 
Heart unashamed upon your breast; 
Heart that must beat its own way, 
As the night-time loveth day. 

Crowded hours, long, sad years; 
My bread was sorrow, my drink tears; 
Oh, lonely hours, helplessness, 
Oh, web of sighs and dumb distress. 
64 



CROWDED HOURS 65 

I have the right to let you know, 

When you call I '11 rise and go; 

From prayer I '11 rise, love knows the way, 

I '11 live for this from day to day. 

Your soul will call and tell me more 
Of sweets behind love's sacred door, 
As God's sun warms the garden flowers, 
Thy heart on mine, in crowded hours. 

Crowded hours, hands clasp hands, 
Back we '11 go to love's dear lands, 
Love's new red wine, fragrant bowers, 
You '11 bring back dear happy hours. 



"LET'S RUN AWAY" 

ASIDE from a zephyr's dipping wing 
There seems astir no earthly thing. 
Come, rouse up from your dreamy rest, 
Let 's run away where sleep is best. 

Come, fling a robe o'er your shoulders bare, 
And gather the threads of your floating hair; 
The night looks long and drear and gray, 
But in blocks of light the moonbeams lay. 

Come, let 's run far, far away, 
Where boughs unclasp and shadows play; 
Our tryst we Jl keep till the stars convene — 
The sunset for your crown, my queen. 

Take hold of my hand, let 's run away, 
Though steep and rough the perilous way ; 
Where the May rose springs and the ivy clings 
And the sea-bird foldeth her weary wings. 

Let 's run away with dancing feet, 
Over a turf where wild waves beat; 
Oh, take my hand and lead the way, 
Under white lilac's dropping spray. 
66 



" LET'S RUN AWAY " 67 

Let 's run to the forest vast and old, 
Where sunshine sheds her shafts of gold, 
Where twilight sky looks faintly down, 
Where midnight casts her silver crown. 

Let 's run, where moontide shadows stand, 
Where silence lifts a calming hand; 
No weary hours, no long, sad years; 
Let 's run away from falling tears. 

Let 's run away from life's weeds and grass ; 
"Nay, nay," says Love, "you cannot pass" — 
Love, who will not be forgot; 
Love, who watcheth, and sleepeth not. 

Love, we are so glad to see thy face, 

So weary of our mad, mad race. 

We ran away, 't was a coward's deed. 

Love: how could we know thy heart would bleed? 

Love, in thy temple we '11 calmly wait, 
Prepared for thee, and any fate. 
Be grateful for all blessings sent, 
And go our common way content. 



"THEE AND ME" 

l<r "THEE and me," eyes dancing bright, 

I Love is ours with new delight ; 
Love fragrant with noonday heat — 
Love that 's anew, heart leap, heart beat. 

Through Love's garden comes thy voice ; 
Heart of mine, rejoice, rejoice! 
Eyes to mine have cast their spell. 
Is it Paradise or is it hell? 

Love waits till grief is on the wane, 
Then sings his joy-song strong again. 
Love slept, tKen awoke to trace, 
Thee and me, our hiding-place. 

Love brings together, then tears apart; 
Love comes again to pierce the heart; 
Love is dead, then Love is born; 
Love brings dark night, then fair morn. 

"Thee and me," we might have known 
Love would return and claim his own; 
After frost, and snow, and rain, 
God brings seedtime back again. 
68 



"THEE AND ME" 69 

My heart may be a beggar's hall, 
But Love is there till planets fall — 
Love is there in heavenly guise, 
"Thee and me" and Paradise. 

Leaf and blossom, ripe fruit blended, 
"Thee and me" and joy not ended. 
Oh, lonely life ! Oh, lost days ! 
"Thee and me" and Love ablaze. 

"Thee and me" have learned Love's worth, 
Blown the ashes from his hearth; 
Gone the tide of bitter years — 
Gone the anguish and hot tears. 

Love is laughing, Love is strong, 
"Thee and me" will sing his song; 
Sorrow's race we ran each mile, 
Now "thee and me" will love awhile. 

Love's sweet music in the air, 
His balmy odors everywhere; 
"Thee and me" each heart to take, 
Love, I 'm so glad thou art awake. 



LOVE 

SOMETIMES you come, Love, with your sad and 
tender eyes 
And all the black temptation within my spirit dies; 
Sometimes you are a blossom on God's holy shrine, 
Sometimes you chant a cradle hymn and motherhood 
is mine. 

Sometimes you come and give me strength to move 

my lips in prayer; 
I find the cross and leave my soul prostrate lying 

there. 
Sometimes you take my fainting heart within your 

gentle hold 
And "lead me by still waters" close, close to Heaven's 

fold. 

Sometimes you come and fill each pulse with a sep- 
arate pain; 

I sob for the music of your harp, for the old life back 
again. 

Sometimes you come in death's sad robes, with the 
scent of lilacs sweet ; 

Sometimes you hold a bridal wreath, then leave me 
faint and weak. 

70 



LOVE 71 

Sometimes you bid me pluck a joy, but lo! there on 

the tree 
I find the fruit forbidden when warm arms clave to me; 
You bid the waves of passion rock me to and fro, 
Then scatter ashes on my soul and make my pulse 

beat low. 

Sometimes you come and fill my soul with your bitter 

dust; 
I bear the cross upon my breast, it leaves a mark of 

rust. 
I journey far without thee, such a weary way, 
And worn and fever flushed, I kneel me down and 

pray. 

Sometimes you come, love, and bid me share your 

feast, 
And your words outvoice organ, chorister, and priest; 
Sometimes you awake my soul with your melody and 

song, 
And your touch to me is holy, tho' God may deem it 

wrong. 

Oh, love! there is naught in this world save thee 
That speaketh and singeth of sweet joy to me. 
Oh, love! I love thee so, I ask of God this prayer: 
That He will blindfold thine eyes and make thee 
think me fair. 



THE ANSWER! 

THE foam wreaths rise on the leaping sea 
As white as a woman's bosom should be. 
Strong sea, sweep on, let me hear thy voice 
Tell thy tale, and let my soul rejoice. 

The sea sings loud, then mutters low, 
Is it love or death, in its ebb and flow? 
Oh, sea, I love thy naked breast, 
Thy waves keep sobbing, "come and rest." 

Now a big wave laughs, like a wayward child, 
Then its music comes, so weird and wild; 
Now it murmurs With a wavering tune 
Twixt joy and sadness, love's own croon. 

Send a song, oh, sea! of a love that lasts; 
Not of danger nigh or dark days past ; 
Not of frowning clouds that float on high, 
Nor of a tide gone out, where ruins lie. 

Oh, sea, with thy sad and rhythmic roll, 
Thou stirrest "the deeps" in my thrilling soul. 
The winds grow sad on thy waters wide, 
Is it love or death on thy restless tide? 
72 



THE ANSWER 73 

Oh, sea, if you open wide your door, 
Will you send dead faces on the shore — 
Souls gone down thro' pain and fear — 
Did you give them, sea, a pitying tear? 

Oh, the sea flows strong across the bar, 
And the restless waves dash inland far. 
Exhaustless sea, from out thy shrine, 
Wilt thou answer me with word or sign? 

Oh, sighing sea, ope* wide thy door, 
Send not sad death but love, ashore; 
Give thy mouth music, thy body song; 
The yearning is in my veins so strong. 

Faint and quivering comes a distant dawn, 
The sky grows clear, all mist withdrawn. 
My soul's a-thrill with hope, dear sea, 
Is it love or death thou sendest me? 

Against the rocks the wild waves dash, 
The night-stars quiver with golden flash; 
This is the answer the deep sea gives, 
"He who loves knows why he lives." 

Oh, sea! I have done thee grievous wrong, 
Thou wouldst not speak, but tortured long; 
Thy answer comes full sweet tho' late, 
"Love, not death" — and I can wait. 



THE OLD STONE SEAT 

THE strawberries grew wild on the slope of the hill, 
And the big sun went to sleep behind the old mill 
Down in the pasture field, close to where 
The tinkle of cow-bells filled the air. 

The old stone seat, do you remember it, Jim? 
And the swing that hung from a mulberry limb, 
And the sweet wild roses you picked for me there, 
You "old Fraidy" to kiss me when I said, "Don't 
dare?" 

Do you remember the mushrooms, such little fellows, 
With their great big hats and brown umbrellas, 
Under the pear tree, where grass was the greenest, 
Down in the meadow where dew glistened sheenest? 

Do you remember how far the pear tree leaned over 
Where we hid our bare feet in the daisies and clover? 
You made a crown of the blossoms, then knelt at 

my feet, 
And called me a "queen," my throne the old seat. 

I still see you swinging your bare brown feet 
Under the pear tree, on the old stone seat; 

74 



THE OLD STONE SEAT 75 

I smile in my sleep, I waken in tears — 

Jim, half knight, half boy, gone with the years. 

Do you remember how you "swang" me on the old 

vine, 
And tore a big hole in that pink dress of mine? 
There was a dear little brook that sung us to sleep, 
And such a sweet smell of mint near the old stone 

seat. 

Jim, I wonder if God is letting you know, 
For the sake of the days of long, long ago, 
That I have wandered along, hoping to meet 
You there in the meadow on the dear old seat? 

Jim, childhood ran to meet me in the green lane; 
Childhood's lips called me and kissed me again; 
And as a child I 'm having my way 
In sweet thoughts of you and dreams of play. 

I 'm lost in the vision of childhood land, 
Come guide me, Jim, take hold of my hand; 
Have you forgotten? Oh, don't you know 
The little lost child of long, long ago? 

The night is so quiet, so splendid the stars; 
Can't you come out of Heaven, let down the bars, 
Run through the cool grass, with swift flying feet, 
And go back with me, Jim, to the dear old seat? 



76 THE OLD STONE SEAT 

Jim, you Ve not forgotten, I hear your spirit speech ; 
God knows our loving hearts are yearning each for 

each. 
So death will have no sting, and your soul I '11 meet 
There, in God's green meadow, on the old stone seat. 



RED CHERRIES 
(With compliments to "Belle" Swayze Gibson.) 

LONG, long ago, I think a hundred years, 
We hung red cherries on our ears ; 
Together we ran, with joyous feet, 
Through the valley of childhood, green and sweet. 

The dear old days, so far away 
The years unclasp; come, let 's play, 
Let *s sweep aside heartaches and tears, 
And hang red cherries on our ears. 

Your hair matched the buttercups growing wild, 
You were a joyous, happy child, 
You shake old Time, defy his years, 
For I still see cherries on your ears. 

The deep blue sky looks so glad to-day 
Back to childhood I have stolen away; 
I am going to find that dear old tree 
And gather the cherries for you and me. 

"Play time" lies so far away, 
Your hair and mine is streaked with gray; 

77 



yS RED CHERRIES 

But through the mist of all these years 
I see cherries dangling on your ears. 

You are very close to my heart to-day, 
"I love you in the same old way," 
I see your smile through the glistening tears, 
And the cherries dangling on your ears. 

Whatever of life hath ebbed away, 

Comes floating back in a sad, sweet way; 

Just the call of a woman, through laughter and tears, 

For the long ago cherries to hang on our ears. 



WHERE THE WILD WAVES FOAM 

THE passionate waves are making love to the sand, 
Waves flooded with vigor from God's own hand, 
They play with Sand's hair, they kiss her sweet face, 
And foaming with love they run their mad race. 

They lash and quiver, caress and play, 
From the rise of the sun till the fading day, 
Then over the sea comes the rising moon, 
Scattering her rays in a gay festoon. 

They rouse sweet Sand from her golden nest 
And she pants and sobs as close she 's pressed, 
The wild waves cloister her in their arms, 
And they revel and feast on her beauty and charms. 

They sway to Sand's bosom, they give her no rest, 
Until maddened with rapture, they 're clasped to her 

breast, 
She shakes down the rings of her golden hair, 
And with hushed heart lies there gloriously fair. 

When morning came, a shallop's keel 
Grated the edge of the pebbly strand, 
A maid's small foot, a knight's armed heel, 
Were traced upon the golden sand. 

79 



SUMMER 

SUMMER comes, her tinkling feet all musical with 
bells, 
Like Psyche, zephyr born to the sweet land of pleasure; 
Comes with rich gifts through woodland ways. 
The livelong day I hear her many-chorded harp 
Sounding from plains and meadows where of late 
Came the wild north wind, careering like a steed 

unconscious of the rein. 
Summer, thou has reared most beautiful things — 
Sighs in the tree top, blossoms moist with dew; 
The sweet night air is musical with thy soft tones, 
Thy ministry is typical of love, and we thy scholars ; 
With thy kisses thou dost tear apart the heart leaves 
of the rose. 



Thou art a gentle mother, mindful of the bruised vine, 
Nor scorn to lift the trodden weed; and when thy 
Lowlier children faint by the wayside 
Thou dost bathe their pale brows with thy dews; 
Summer, thou are the fulness of love and music 
most sweet. 

80 



SUMMER 8 1 

Thy lips and thy forehead are sealed with love's seal. 
Priestess, Queen, thy world is so beautiful, so good, 
Thy rains fall alike for the rose, the thistle, the weed. 
The lovers, unloved, draw nigh for thy blessing, 
And dreams are filled at night with the kisses thou 

givest. 
Summer, dost thou, too, dream of sweet familiar eyes 
Tormenting and alluring? Dost thou dream 
As I, ofttime, of eyes loved but unloving? 
Nay ! Summer, thy crown of love lies on thy bosom 

soft, 
And in heaven, from whence thy dreams go forth, 
Are stored the signs that make the world too sweet. 

Around the ruined temples of the woods thou hast 
Rebuilt thy altars, and called back the scattered 

choristers, 
And over green aisles rises a mingled strain of music 
Sweet as the breath of buds. 

Thou bidst Nature's mightiest voice speak mystically 
Of all hidden things to the attentive soul; 
From thy lips comes no pealing triumph, 
But where silence sits enchanted hath arisen a mingled 

strain 
Of music, fresh desired, still strange and new, though 

known, 
And thy sweet voice bids us turn where 
Love must yet be found. 



ON THE THRESHOLD 

TO-NIGHT is thy last, beloved old year, 
The sound of the loom of the new is near; 
With woof of shadow and warp of sun, 
The weaving of joy and sorrow begun. 

Leafless trees raise their heads to the sky, 
The night wind moans, the pines reply, 
Like mourners wailing for their dead, 
Refusing to be comforted. 

Yes, I know thou art tired and long for the way 
Where the gates stand open to eternal day, 
Though a dreary woodland stretches wide 
And thou and death walk side by side. 

And so it 's good-by, thro' a mist of tears. 

I seem to have loved thee years and years; 

There 's a sob and a sigh in the night wind's breath, 

And closing around thee are the arms of death. 

Thy face is sad and worn, yet fair, 
And from brave lips thou breathest a prayer; 
Love's lute plays thee a mournful song — 
Good-night, good-by, thy way is long. 

82 



ON THE THRESHOLD 83 

From the breast of midnight the cry of a little child; 
Beat loud the drums! the bugles blow! music sweet 

and wild, 
Over the traffic of cities, reaching to the sky; 
Quick, Nineteen-nine ! thy kisses and a last good-by. 

Gleams the world with glory, Nineteen-ten is born. 
A golden year, new hopes unveiled, with the dawning 

morn; 
A million throats are singing, every note rings true; 
A kiss and good-by to the old year, welcome to the 

new. 

Oh, light of youth, I yield me, then, 
To thy sweet power. Hail ! Nineteen-ten, 
To the child thou art, I drink my wine, 
And to the brave man gone, Nineteen-nine. 



JUNE 

OH, your glance it is warm and your lips are sweet 
My heart you unleash and hold at your feet; 
The love notes from your lute are all in tune, 
I drink a blithe bridal to you, Lady June. 

You have the passion of sunshine, the sweetness of 

shade, 
For love and for roses you surely were made; 
The earth is glad, with blue laughing eyes, 
And the bride maiden clouds are in the skies. 

Oh, there 's love in the air, love to be told, 
There 's white-rofyed priests and hearts of gold; 
The bridegroom, Summer, the bride, sweet June, 
Love singeth his song, the same old tune. 

Love 's in the air, the marriage bells call, 
The bridegroom waits while sweet roses fall; 
The petals Love weaves into a wedding ring, 
While the birds the wedding anthems sing. 

So it 's June and Love from the lark's low nest, 
It 's Love and June to the mountain crest ; 
The bridegroom, Summer, to the same old tune, 
Marches down Love's aisle with his sweet bride, June. 

84 



CHRIST RISEN 

OUT of the midnight darkness into the light of 
dawn, 
Christ, the Godchild risen, fill your throats with song. 
"O grave, thou hast no victory; death, thou hast no 

sting"; 
Ring out glad music everywhere, sing Easter anthems, 
sing! 



He who oft had not a place where to lay His head ; 
He who stooped to heal the wounds while His own 

side bled; 
Christ, the blessed tender One, so pitiful, sublime — 
Christ crucified, Christ risen, to save your soul and 

mine. 



List to the Easter music every true heart sings; 
Christ is risen in glory, there 's a rush of Love's sweet 

wings ; 
Penitent and innocent, in the sun and in the shade, 
For all Christ is risen, through His love we 're saved 

85 



86 CHRIST RISEN 

Open the lattice of your hearts, let the Easter love- 
light in; 

Forget all pain, forget all care, forget there e'er was 
sin; 

Open wide the heart-door, your love with all men 
share, 

Be stirred with hope of good to come, with incense, 
chant, and prayer. 



Heaven's own light is near us, love like a shining star, 
Light and love and music, sing every note and bar; 
The world is one big blossom, God is everywhere; 
Bring your souls to His altar, consecrate with prayer. 



God's angels are astir in every lane and street 
To watch for the coming of His blessed feet; 
David's song is in the air, in the trees and flowers, 
Christ, " Messiah comes, the nation's King and ours. " 



Christ, the blessed Saviour, who nourished crowds 

with bread; 
Oh, self-denying love that thought alone others should 

be fed; 
The women came and clung to Him in spite of threats 

and jeers; 
Oh, loving heart of women, with your sweetness and 

your tears. 



CHRIST RISEN 87 

Christ, Thou Prophet of Nazareth, out of Thy bit- 
ter defeat, 

In Thy humiliation woman kissed Thy bleeding feet. 

From the grave and gate of death the stone is rolled 
away — 

Alleluia! God's glory reaches us on this Easter day. 

In God's golden city, wide open are the doors, 
And the sun is shining in shafts across the floors; 
Out of the sepulchre into the palace of His King, 
The angels drew away the stone — sing, allelulia, sing ! 

Out of the midnight darkness, out of the morning 

gray, 
The light of day is breaking, the clouds have rolled 

away; 
Out of the trembling blackness into the flashing of 

the sun, 
The brightest hour at last has . come — eternal life 

begun. 



THANKSGIVING 

1 THANK Thee, Father, for my body and brain, 
For life's little pleasures pungent as flame; 
I thank Thee for all of my days and years, 
E'en tho' some have been sodden with tears. 

I thank Thee for all I have reaped and sown, 
For all the pain and the joy I have known; 
I thank Thee for sight, and speech on my lip, 
For Thy loving care, so my feet will not slip. 

I thank Thee for life that I have found sweet, 
I have kissed Love's chalice, sat at his feet; 
I thank Thee for cnanging the dark into light, 
The burdens and cares gone out of sight. 

I thank Thee for north wind and for the south — 
Thou sendeth it all from heaven's mouth ; 
I thank Thee for growth of the corn and the wheat, 
For each blade of grass that grows at my feet. 

I thank Thee for the cool, still ways, 
The sunshine, too, of long, happy days; 
For the sunset glow that comes in the west, 
And the night's aftermath that brings sweet rest. 

88 



THANKSGIVING 89 

For the murmur of waters, the rustle of corn, 
Where west winds play in the early morn ; 
For Thy music that 's in the leaves and trees, 
In the song of birds and the drone of bees. 

I thank Thee for my strength and health 
Which keeps me rich in nature's wealth. 
I send my prayer on this sweet day, 
I know Thou hearest all I say. 

I thank Thee that true love outlives 
All hurts and wrongs, and just forgives; 
I thank Thee for life's swelling sea 
That brings my own right home to me. 

I thank Thee to my soul is known 
That love can never lose its own; 
Sometimes Thou dost Thy gates unbar, 
And I am close where angels are. 

I thank Thee for the friends for whom 
My "shanty" and my heart have room. 
So weak, dear God, this song of mine 
I kneel and ask the strain of Thine. 



JOY BELLS 

MERRY, merry Christmas! Send it everywhere. 
Sing out your love notes, let them fill the air; 
Take in all God's children, no alien at this feast; 
Love is the rule of life, from the highest to the least. 

Merry, merry Christmas ! Make your heart a mighty 

bell 
That will ring out joy tidings and God's goodness 

tell; 
Fill your soul with rhythm all so silver sweet, 
Lay your heart with its love at the Christchild's feet. 

Merry, merry Christmas! Let the song reach every 

port; 
Peace and joy and gladness, the day is all too short. 
God's star is in His Heaven, let your lips sing free 
The music of the Yuletide the Father sends to thee. 

Merry, merry Christmas! Sweet as an infant's 

prayer 
Comes the music of the joy-bells floating in the air, 
They tell of life's sweetness, of love's eternal spring. 
Oh, don't you love them for the precious news they 

bring? 

90 



JOY BELLS 91 

Merry, merry Christmas, hope and love and cheer, 
All the choicest blessings come this time o' year. 
All hail to the Christchild, with God's crown His own. 
Merry, merry Christmas! Love is better than a 
throne. 

Merry, merry Christmas over all the earth ! 
Love became immortal with the Christchild's birth; 
Yes, the year is dying, his blood is growing cold, 
But love is a breathing, living thing — love is never 
old. 

Merry, merry Christmas ! There 's assurance of 

great peace. 
Love is the rule of life, its joy-bells never cease; 
Vanquished is all sorrow, gone is all the pain ; 
Blessed, blessed joy-bells bid us hope again. 

Merry, merry Christmas ! Forget all dreary cares, 
Listen to the joy-bells blot out "long despairs"; 
Christ, the son of Mary, is born to us this day; 
"Glory to the newborn King," who in a stable lay. 

Listen to the joy-bells, love's power never ends. 
Blessed, blessed joy-bells; God bless our faithful 

friends ! 
Merry, merry joy-bells, hope in every breast; 
Golden, golden joy-bells, happiness and rest. 



JUST YOU 

THY hand, my friend; here *s a hearty shake; 
Thy friendship knows how to give and take. 
A part of your soul in mine has reigned 
And vigor and strength through you I Ve gained. 

You have kept within my heart good cheer, 
You have taught me to fight and conquer fear, 
You have been so loyal, so true, so just, 
And given me the "big half" of your trust. 

You come to me in the still, dark night, 
You lift the hours and bring God's light; 
Oh, friend beloved, strong friend of mine, 
Your friendship is my bread and wine. 

When I 'm too tired to sing or pray 
You take my hand and show the way; 
You are so dear, so brave, so strong, 
You help me sing "Love's old sweet song." 

You walk with me in the silent street, • 
You make me forget life's dust and heat; 
Oh, faithful friend, so kind, so wise, 
God could not have made you otherwise. 

92 



just you 93 

Sometimes when the ache is in my throat 
Your heart sings out its sobbing note. 
"Did I hurt you?" Your eyes grow wet, 
And the whisper comes: "Forgive, forget!" 

True friend, you are my life, my space; 
In you I see God's own sweet face. 
And I '11 be wishing my whole life through 
That my crown in Heaven will be just you. 



MY SCHOOL 

I HAVE a school all of my own, 
I 'm willing to share if you wish the loan; 
The Master is strict, and keeps me at work, 
The punishment's sure if I try to shirk. 

In my school I burn the midnight oil, 
And the days are best when I must toil; 
The Master bids me waste no tears, 
He holds my hands and calms my fears. 

The hours are early and often late, 
Of Time and his cycle I keep no date; 
I swing to the toil all day long, 
And over my labor I sing my song. 

In my school I have the glory of space, 
And sunshine comes with her beaming face; 
Sometimes when the skies are overcast 
I fall to dreaming till the clouds are past. 

My school is filled with the light of day, 
There 's room to sing, and laugh, and pray; 
The Master looks down from His home above 
And teaches me only His tender love. 
94 



MY SCHOOL 95 

Sometimes in my school the shadows stand 
Which the Master lifts with a calming hand; 
He lights the stars in my soul's dark night 
And brings me back to warmth and light. 

To-day in my school I heard the Master say: 
"Lo, I am with you, if a cross before you lay." 
Then He whispers softly: "It 's enough for thee to 

know 
Tho' thy sins be scarlet, thou shalt be white as 

snow!" 



WHAT IS OPTIMISM? 

IT 'S bread and a rose and a cup of dew, 
It 's sunshine and cheer for me, for you ; 
Oh, it 's love and a throbbing soul aglow, 
A white snow drift with violets below. 

It 's folks that like you, hearts so kind, 
Well worth the trouble to hunt and find, 
It 's the light and warmth of long ago 
Where the mignonette and lilacs grow. 

It 's bread and a rose and a cabin of rest, 
Thro' tangled ways to the mountain crest, 
Over the hills where love is king, 
The dearest and sweetest of everything. 

It 's the will that 's in the builder's thought, 
The faith and courage within him wrought; 
It 's the love that 's in the cradle song, 
In the blue sky's smile when the rain is long. 

It 's forgetting the cold and wintry weather, 
Just running along and keeping together; 
It 's bread and a rose and a word of cheer, 
A dear little day, in a big new year. 
.96 



WHAT IS OPTIMISM ? 97 

Over the hills, make the best of the world, 
The sun in the sky, or storm flag unfurled; 
It 's bread and a rose, sweet rest at night, 
In a cabin of comfort and candle-light. 

It 's a curtain of charity fringed in gold, 
Looped in many a love-swung fold ; 
It 's the monarch of life, it 's faith and joy, 
And it 's in the heart of a barefoot boy. 

Oh, it 's bread and a rose and falling snow, 
A child's laugh rings with the winds that blow, 
While the loom of winter weaves and weaves 
The blanket to cover the little dead leaves. 

Oh, it 's bread and a rose and hope revealed, 
Behind the clouds the sun concealed; 
It 's a beautiful girl with ripening charms 
On the road to womanhood and lover's arms. 

It 's to hear God's voice at dusk and dawn, 
It 's to keep youth's armor bravely on ; 
It 's high endeavor, the courage and peace, 
The heart holds fast as the years increase. 

It *s a mind rejoicing in the light, 

It *s a lily stainless in holy white, 

It 's bread and a rose and a cup of dew, 

God's spirit of love, all life through. 



OCTOBER 

OCTOBER comes with panting breath 
Exulting over summer's death. 
I lift my head his notes to hear; 
A bold, brave hunter standeth near. 

There *s wild excitement in the chase. 
October, keen to win the race, 
Along he comes with subtle shout 
To drive the soul of Summer out. 

October comes with song and story, 
All around he sheds his glory. 
A longing all about me clings, 
So strong the notes October sings. 

Summer faded day by day, 
Her sweet voice has died away. 
We can do no more than this: 
On her grave just lay a kiss. 

Summer hushed, gone to rest, 
Dead wild roses on her breast. 
It seemeth only yesternight 
She came and filled the world with light. 
98 



OCTOBER 99 

Summer, for a while she stood 
Revealing all her womanhood. 
Her sweet rose boughs blossomed red. 
The crown of love is hers, tho' dead. 

Summer, with her sweetness gone, 

October comes on wings of song. 

Each song may hold a minor note, 

But clear and strong from an athlete's throat. 

October! and the heart's quick thrills; 
Bronze and crimson drape the hills. 
The air is stirred, the world is good. 
October, king in field and wood. 



QUEEN AUTUMN! 

LET the red leaves fall, let the brown fawn leap, 
Let Queen Autumn in like a huntress fleet, 
Let the pheasant plume her glossy wing 
Under the happy sun, let sweet joy sing. 



Gather the corn in the big, clean barns, 
Pluck the apples and grapes from well-tilled farms, 
Comb the wool, cut the flax, sow the wheat, 
Keep the blood rosy and the soul-life sweet. 



There 's singing and kissing where the small brooks 

twine 
And the goldenrod treasures the glad sunshine, 
There 's a sound of bells in the faint-lipped waves, 
And the green ferns dance in the weedy caves. 



The birds sing love in the tasselled pine, 
And the blood-red leaves still cling to the vine; 
There 's a song of hope in the sea-bird's breast, 
The air full of vigor from the mountain crest. 

ioo 



QUEEN AUTUMN 101 

There *s rosy auroras, like dreams of delight, 
And the stars shine bright in the curtain of night; 
There 's sunshine and singing and humming of bees, 
And sweet meat in the chestnuts that fall from the 
trees. 

There 's goblets of ozone in God's pure air, 
Swing to the scythe, give your muscles wear, 
Blow up life's logs to a brighter blaze. 
Fill your soul with the fire of Queen Autumn days. 



ROCK CREEK PARK 

" T^HE forest there is vast and old 
1 A shade so deep, so darkly green 
That morning sends her shaft of gold 
In vain to pierce its leafy screen." 

Cool and fresh the wild creek springs, 
O'ershadowed by the "forest kings," 
The sumach waves his scarlet plume, 
The wild rose sheds her clustered bloom. 

The sunshine dances thro* the trees, 
Gentle zephyrs kiss the leaves; 
Through the quiet of the twilight dim 
The insects sing their vesper hymn. 

Rock Creek sighs as yonder she passes, 
Kissing and loving the sweet marsh grasses; 
The pines that stand in priestly vesture 
Wave the creek on, with solemn gesture. 

The day's pale glories sink and swell 
O'er the black rise of the wooded height; 
The moon's thin crescent, like a stranded shell, 
Lies all alone on the shores of night. 
102 



ROCK CREEK PARK 103 

There are dancing lights in the marshes damp 
Where the firefly kindles his fitful lamp, 
And baby raindrops keep gliding soft 
To the leaf below from the leaf aloft. 

Now the stars in the sky at anchor stand, 

A cloud shades the moon with snow-white hand, 

Boughs of the trees that love the night 

Turn their leaves about in pure delight. 

New life in the woods, in the sunny air 
The grass astir like floating hair; 
God looks down from the bending skies, 
And the earth is glad with laughing eyes. 

God's voice along the forest ways, 
Along the fields of rest, He strays; 
The trees, the grass: no pomp, no prayer, 
But, tired heart, God's peace is there. 



SEA-GULLS 
(On board the steamer Newport News, Jan. n, 1908.) 

SEA-GULLS! Sea-gulls! Wings white, like a 
woman's breast; 
Will you flit on forever; will you never, never rest? 
Soaring, whirling, dipping into the ocean's bosom 

wide, 
Twirling, fluttering, flying, not caring for time or tide. 

Sea-gulls! Sea-gulls! In the soft air with your vagrant 

play, 
Come carry me away with you, as o'er old ocean's 

bosom you s£ray. 
Storm and tempest around you, you '11 not falter — 

you feel no fear; 
And the turbid current of passion dies as you flutter 

near. 

Sea-gulls! Sea-gulls! Like spirits in stoles of white, 
Fluttering to beguile me; to make my soul forget its 

night; 
Flying, whirling, clinging like snow to the icy mast, 
I feel the thrill of love's sweet remains from out a 

buried past. 

104 



SEA-GULLS 105 

Sea-gulls! Sea-gulls! Come where the white vapor 

creeps, 
Come, while love's waters are stagnant; come, while 

passion sleeps. 
From out the storm and wreckage help me find 

love's old, sweet nest, 
From out the darkness of sorrow's sea, come, lift me 

into rest. 

Sea-gulls! Sea-gulls! Hath time chilled with her cold 

embrace 
The martial blood within me? Her frozen, marble 

face 
Hath turned to ice the fires — turned my face away 

from the sun; 
Life's vase is empty and broken, and the ways of love 

undone. 

Sea-gulls! Sea-gulls! Bear me out on the swelling 

tide; 
Let me pour out love's libations and know no God 

beside; 
Let me once more be maddened by passion's frenzied 

glow, 
And burn with fiercer fire than Isis' altars know. 

Sea-gulls! Sea-gulls! White from the foam of the sea, 
Stretch your wings to Heaven; ask God to lean down 
to me. 



106 SEA-GULLS 

My soul hath emptied out its song; may it now be 

filled with prayer, 
And white and fluttering like the gull, at last find 

entrance there. 



"YEO HO, MY HEARTY!" 

" WEO ho, my hearty!" the skipper cried 

I (And the winds grew hot across the tide) ; 
"I love you, my hearty, when stars illume — 
Love you alone, through clouds and gloom. 

" Yeo ho, my hearty! and here 's my hand, 
I '11 hoist my sail at your command; 
A skipper can heave no poet's sigh, 
But we love all right, my heart and I. 

"I love you, my hearty, in sickness or woe," 
The skipper cried, "and I want you so; 
Yeo ho, my hearty! in no whisper I name it, 
I 'm yours all right, let the sea proclaim it. 

"All yours," called the skipper through summer and 

gladness; 
"Yeo ho, my hearty! through winter and sadness." 
And wild and weird came the sea-bird's cry 
As a cold sea-fret went shuddering by. 

"Yeo ho, my hearty! till life's last day, 
You 're on my heart, and there you '11 stay." 
"Yeo ho! Yeo ho!" came the low refrain, 
And the laugh that followed was sad as pain. 

107 



108 "yeo ho, my hearty 



> 1 



And the dews of night came gently down; 
"Yeo ho!" came the call no sea could drown. 
The echo came back through the billow's roar 
As the boat sailed off to a distant shore. 

I sat and watched thro' the flying spray, 
And counted the sands drop fast away; 
The sea rang out with its minor chords; 
"Yeo ho!" the chime of measured words. 

The night grew black; I heard the call, 
"Yeo ho, my hearty!" and that was all. 
Then down in the waters dark and deep, 
With love in his heart, he went to sleep. 



BEDDIE HOUSE TIME 

DE great big sun, he dun cum sizzlin', 
Den de HI rain drops on de roof drizzlin'. 
Now de white moon a-breakin' fro' de sky 
An' it 's beddie house time, bye lo, bye. 

Beddie house time when mammy sings, 
Time to fold up lil black wings. 
Sum day yo great big man dun grow, 
Den mammy kin rock yo-all no mo'. 

Lil stahs in der beddie house play bo-peep 
Big moon, der mammy say, "Chillun go sleep." 
Dreamland cha'iot soon cum by, 
Now min yoah mammy, shet yo eye. 

Now jes' yo do as yoah mammy bid, 
Tuck yo haid undah de kiver lid. 
Lil chickins all roostin' in der tree; 
Dat am jes as true as true kin be. 

Mammy's lil son doan* do no cryin', 
Jes lil gyrls dat keep a sighin'. 
Now honey, yo jes' stop dat scream, 
Beddie house time, go sleep an' dream. 
109 



110 BEDDIE HOUSE TIME 

Beddie house time foah mammy's lamb, 
Lil black baby jes* like Sam. 
Bye lo, bye lo! clock mos' eight, 
Big black daddy soon slam gate. 

Ole mammy moon, in de windah peepin', 

Jes* wants to know if yo-all am sleepin' ; 

Dat old mammy moon dun feel so proud, 

Kase huh chillun's beddie house, big white cloud. 

Sum day in dis ahm-chaih Ah '11 rock alone 
When mah lil black baby big man grown; 
Den I des dat froat lump choke yo sum 
When yoah heah de tune dat mammy hum. 

Bye lo, bye lo! beddie house time, 
Yo mammy's lap de place to climb. 
In huh ahms jes' cum an* creep. 
Bye lo, bye lo, fas' asleep. 
Bye lo! bye! 



AFFINITY 

STOP dat, Mistah Johnsin\ yo think you-all ahm 
smaht 
Jes' kase yo walked yo'sef way inside mah hyart, 
An' yoah laffin' an' a jokin', dat 's what you-all are; 
Be keerful, Ike Johnsin' you-all doan go too fah. 

Kase Ah '11 fro out some fros' bites an* pass yo de 

snow; 
Yo-all am too high influenced, yo bettah go moah 

slow; 
Yo acts like de drum majah ahead of de ban, 
But dis chile 's not sleepin', she 's got you by de han'. 

Jes' kase Ah tole you dat my hyart dun jollify 
When Ah sees yo on yoah coal cyart percalatin' by, 
Co'se, Ah doan' claim to know what yo ought to be, 
But dar 's somphin' about yo seems mighty fine to me. 

Ike Johnsin', yo-all *s no good for anything, 
But yo kin make mah hyart hop an* jump an' sing. 
Go long, Mistah Johnsin', jes yo let go mah wais', 
Or yo will feel my fis' segastuate yoah face. 

in 



112 AFFINITY 

My, but ain't it funny? Dat why yoah laffin* so? 
Well, you jes' kin take yoah hat, out de doah yo go. 
All dem things yo prognossed to me am jes' one big lie, 
An' ef yo darst to tech me Ah '11 pitchefy yoah eye. 

What 's dat yoah sayin'? Ah 'se yo* maunin' glory 

vine; 
Dat dem kisses on yoah lips ebery one am mine? 
Oh, Mistah Johnsin', Ah lak dat arm aroun' my 

wais'. 
Oh, Ike Johnsin', how good dem kisses tase\ 

Well den, Ike Johnsin', Ah think yoah awful sweet; 
Jes' rest yoah hat, fix yo lap, an' Ah '11 take a seat. 
Huh, Mistah Johnsin', yo-all doan know a lot, 
But Ah 's boun' to mahy yo, right heah on dis spot. 



THE OARSMAN 

YOU row your boat in your own sweet fashion, 
One oar you call Love and the other Passion; 
Just a shell of wood between you and the sea, 
And the sweep of your oars keeps calling me. 

The sea waves dark in the summer night, 

But the moon comes sweet and warm and white; 

A low, soft mist steals over the sand 

As I kneel in the starlight with outstretched hand. 

Shrill and loud comes a sea-bird's cry, 
And the watch-dog moaned as the moon rose high; 
Dip, dip came the sound of your Passion oar, 
But Love, its mate, was heard no more. 

" Come, come, " you call through the showering spray; 

"Come, while I keep the waves at bay." 

Then up in the turret a solemn knell 

Tolls "One, two, one, two," like a funeral bell. 

You were scarcely an arrow's flight from shore 
When you paused to rest upon your oar, 
And I watched the foam wreaths dash and fall 
Like shattered stars from the castle wall. 

8 113 



114 THE OARSMAN 

I listened for the tramp of your clanging foot, 
But over the sea came a low- toned lute; 
And the night grew long, the night grew gray 
In the changeful ghosts of the milk-white spray. 

Touched by the moon's uncertain ray, 
You checked your oar just midway; 
And hovering there in the trembling light 
Was a figure small, an angel white. 

I heard her call, I saw her stand 
With smiling lips and beckoning hand, 
And to me across the sea there crept 
Only the drip of the spray that wept. 

Doubtful you paused a minute's space, 
Then Love, the oar, took up the race; 
And over the ocean its echo fell 
"One, two, one, two," like a marriage bell. 



"LIFE IN THE OLD MAN YET" 

11 T IFE in the old man," his days stay young, 

J—/ He feels that joy has just begun; 
He opens the gates to the fairy straits, 
Rows his boat along, defies "the fates." 

"Life in the old man," his soul is wise, 
Love and sunshine his paradise, 
Joy 's not dead for him just yet, 
"Life in the old dog" still, you bet. 

"Life in the old man" to do his best, 
Chin still up, and broad his chest, 
"Al a man left" and "do si do," 
Watch the "old dog," "heel and toe." 

The years may come a thousand-fold, 
But the "grit" in him will not grow old; 
Steady he swings to drive things through, 
That youth in his soul has work to do. 

"The old man V in the game to please, 
Forgets the "germs" that breed disease; 
He asks if "all is well" with you 
With love a-shine in eyes of blue. 

«5 



n6 



"Life in the old dog" yet, you bet, 
He 11 cleft the waves and not get wet, 
Hold his grip upon his pride, 
And force his boat through any tide. 

His heart stays young, age has no yoke, 
He rows aright with measured stroke. 
"The old dog" keeps moving along, 
Thankful for love, thinking no wrong. 

Brave old man: when your work is done 
And you lower your sail at set of sun, 
Though you row with death you 11 win the race, 
And meet your God, with a smile on your face. 



LIVE STOCK 

I HEAR a newsboy's whistle, calling to his chum; 
I think I like its music more than a fiddle or a 
drum. 
I catch myself wishing to answer to the strain, 
For it 's stirring to the blood and gives vigor to the 
brain. 

Just a clannish whistle of a bright and happy boy, 
"Mauin peps" — then the whistle, like a bubble of 

py; 

Oh! it makes me smell the lilacs, it takes away the 

pain, 
And I forget to think of sorrow, and am a merry child 

again. 

A little ragged newsboy, but his whistle rings out 

clear; 
A little body full of courage, a smiling look at fear. 
I listen for that whistle, I watch the rolling gait 
Of this happy little newsboy, alive to any fate. 

"Mauin peps" — "The Herald," up and down the 

streets ; 
A calling and a greeting to every one he meets. 

117 



Il8 LIVE STOCK 

His "peps" may tell disaster, death and want and 

woe, 
But this little boy keeps whistling, for he has his row 

to hoe. 

A little whistling newsboy, with his quick and steady 
steps; 

He puts a lot of vigor in that cry of "Mauin peps!" 

It sets my blood a-stirring, turns the ashes into fire; 

I think that whistle sweet enough to lead the white- 
robed choir. 



THE LITTLE RED CRADLE 

THE little red cradle, "covered with dust," 
All the brass hinges tarnished with rust. 
I start it to rocking, 'midst laughter and tears, 
An empty thing out of the random years. 

Rock-a-bye baby! Why do you smile? 
Can't we go back just for a while 
To the glad hours that never would stay 
After our babies all went away? 

Rock-a-bye baby! Why do you weep? 
Let 's play in the cradle our babes still sleep — 
Your babies and mine, pretty and sweet, 
With such little hands and tiny pink feet. 

The babies we loved, the children we knew, 
The little ones God gave to me and to you. 
Little red cradle, don't make me cry, 
Babies can't wait while years roll by. 

Dear little baby with merry blue eyes, 
Bigger than mother now, and far more wise, 
The little red cradle I rock and whirl, 
Just playing it holds my baby girl. 
119 



120 THE LITTLE RED CRADLE 

And the "little boy blue" with the tousled hair, 
In a brighter world — God wanted him there — 
In the little red cradle. Come, take a peep ; 
Here lies a little boy fast, fast asleep. 

A "little boy blue/' with white, white wings, 
Who wanted "muvvie" to tell him "fings." 
I rock the cradle, half-glad, half-sad 
He is so safe, my little lad. 

Rock-a-bye baby, we must not cry, 
But think of the glory of days gone by ; 
The ghosts of the babies 'round us throng 
As we rock and sing a lullaby song. 

For it 's a phantom cradle I rock to-night, 
Just as any lonesome mother might, 
And I still can see a baby head 
On the pillow here in the cradle bed. 

The cradle rocks twixt a song and moan, 
Changing neither its tune nor tone ; 
It falls like peace on a fevered brain 
And takes from a saddened heart its pain. 

So here to-night in this lonesome place 
A babe looks up in its mother's face, 
And I rock and sing, soft and low, 
As I did to my babies long ago. 



THE LITTLE RED CRADLE 121 

Little red cradle, we Ve had our glories, 
Crooned little songs and told " sleepy stories "; 
We Ve had life's full, and oh, God's smile! 
For we mothered babies a little while 

Babies are things too lovely to last, 

But strong to waken the pulse of the past. 

I wonder why they grow up and go 

When mothers need them and want them so. 

So little red cradle, I kneel in prayer, 
And my babies know I am kneeling there 
Close to you; while I rock and sing 
I am sure my babies are listening. 

Some day, some time in Paradise 
The babies will watch with eager eyes. 
God will tell us to rock them (this I know) 
In the little red cradle of long ago. 



TWILIGHT 

TWILIGHT comes pacing slow, holding in leash 
The fleet shadows — making purple all the hills, 
O'er the sea pale phantoms are trooping, 
Passing winds pluck at my garments, 
And around me fling invisible urgent arms; 
Faint clustering lights that twinkling through the 
gloom 

Mark where a city stands. 

The waves are putting on night's silver harness, 
The air is musical with soft tones, 
I am counting the drifting clouds; 
Now I see the coming darkness. 

Cloven by wings, that take light like a prism, 
The sea sobs as 't were the thought-prayer 
Of some exhausted saint. 
Soft and calm and bright the moon 
Bursts through the doorway of the sky, 
Twilight purple o'er the sea, bright glories float 
Through my spirit, my thoughts like tense chords, 
A thousand delicate bards are harping on my soul. 

122 



TWILIGHT 123 

No sight, no sound, but stirs me to the keenest 

pleasure, 
My senses wide awake to watch for the touch 
That thrills them. 



Every sound falls through the listening air unscab- 

barded ; 
I dream thou art kneeling with me on the sands, 
At one shrine together, sending our mated souls 
Like paired larks to Heaven. 

The sands: my palace by the sea where 

I dare to speak thy name aloud, 

The twilight, the sea, and the sublime 

Forgetfulness of pain. 

Fair pictures in my soul hallowed by thoughts of 

thee, 
Low fall the shadows and night draws on apace. 
I hear the voice of God speaking, in this garden by 

the sea, 
Twilight purple, and my thrilling soul still quivering 
In the bended bow of life, does homage to Thy 

strength. 
Life springs fresh again, no more am I the beggared 

thing. 
I walk beside the sea, thy step keeps pace with mine, 
The waves speak love with thy voice. 
The sea sings faint echoes of an olden song, 
Thy very shape lies here upon the sand, 



124 TWILIGHT 

The warm quiet twilight, through her transparent 

robes the stars 
Are seen, and night's step falls as soft as dropt leaves; 
In the mist across the sea comes thy smile, 
Night voices sing and their music holds me captive. 
With finger laid on lip I listen : a sound 
Of many wings fills the air, and at my ear 
A sea-shell chants a cradle hymn. 
I try to call my wild thoughts to their nest; 
Fresh evening perfumes fill the air. 
Joy draws near, laying her dewy lips 
Upon my brow, twining me with soft movements 
In her arms, and my soul drifts out 
Seaward, seeing the dim shore receding, slow 
The voices of the waves call thy name. 
I float guideless on 
Until I reach thy outstretched arms. 



THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 

DEATH is another life — that of peace, 
A lonely road, then sweet release; 
A shadow and a sudden gloom, 
A soul asleep, a darkened room. 

The dead are only so in name, 
Unseen, unheard, yet still the same. 
They come so near, then gently fade 
When their sweet ghostly part is played. 

Sometimes they come, with laugh and shout, 
And drive all hurts and sorrows out; 
Sometimes they take us by surprise 
And wipe the tears from aching eyes. 

Sometimes we feel that they have been 
So close — the walls between so thin 
A touch, a sigh, may break it thro'. 
Death reach out and take us, too. 

No pulsing of the heart, no breath, 
And this is all there is of death. 
And life? A hope, a dream, a prayer, 
A weary beating of the air. 
125 



126 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 

And so, alone, I wait for him 
Till his lips touch my goblets brim. 
Chill blood will change to liquid flame 
If thou, sweetheart, but speak my name. 

If thou wilt give me farewell wave 
For the bit of sunshine that I gave, 
I will not fear Death's wildest storm 
If in your soul you '11 keep me warm. 

Then when I feel Death's finger tips, 
His bruising kisses on my lips, 
I will not be a beggared thing — 
My soul will feel the joy of spring. 

I '11 have no fear to go alone 
And face my God before His throne. 
Be mine the fault, 1 11 make this plea — 
I have not lied to Him or thee. 

And, sweetheart, God will tell me why 

To hold your love 't was best to die. 

So come, strong Death, outspread your wings, 

And bear me on to joyful things. 



BEHIND THE SHUTTERS 

I HEARD the click of glasses, the chug of the coin on 
the bar. 
McGowen, Rowney, and Gibson were playing the 

game "on the squar" — 
Men bearded, hardened, unafraid, men the world 

calls "tough." 
To me they were manly, brave, and true — "diamonds 
cut in the rough." 

Poor Lou, the Magdalen, had died that day, 
And there was not a mourner to lay her away; 
No church door opened to let her in; 
Outside the parson talked of her sin. 

Hell, he said, would hold Lou's soul fast to torturing 

pains. 
She had sweltered at the forge of sin; would know its 

coils and chains. 
The surging iron of hell, he said, sin's own heated 

bath, 
Was waiting for poor Lou's soul, seething in mighty 

wrath. 

127 



128 BEHIND THE SHUTTEkS 

The "boys" listened until the parson closed his eyes 

to pray, 
When McGowen stepped up and said: "Parson, not 

that-a-way. 
From what you Ve been a-sayin', Lou don't need 

your aid. 
I reckon if us boys kin pray, she '11 not be so afraid. 

"Whatever Lou may have done, death wipes it 

clean to-night; 
And who darst give that the lie will have just me to 

fight. 
There wuz a heap in Lou, parson, that wuz true, 

an* brave, an' good. 
An' now that she 's cold in death, we '11 talk of her 

womanhood. 

"Holy Father, up in Heaven, see poor Lou a'-laym* 

there? 
Us boys all is rough an' tough, but we ask of Thee 

this prayer. 
Lou done a lot of womanly things, an' in her death 

was brave. 
Big Father of love an' mercy, take her soul an' save. 

"We know the women 'round Thy throne is sweet, 

an' pure, an' good. 
We reckon Lou would have been that-a-way if she 

had understood. 



BEHIND THE SHUTTERS 129 

We 've got men's hearts, Big Father, an' in Thy 

holy name 
Us boys kneel an' ask Thee to blot out poor Lou's 

shame. 

"I reckon if Lou had lived into the long, gray years 
She would have washed away her sin with her own 

hot tears. 
The parson keeps a-savin', her soul was black as 

night. 
Holy Father up in Heaven, we know you '11 make it 

white. 

"Big Father, hear our prayers; lift Lou up from the 

dust. 
Us boys don't know how to pray, but we kin hope 

an' trust. 
Don't let the wives an' mothers up thar know poor 

Lou's shame. 
We ask this, Holy Father, in the blessed Saviour's 

name." 

God sent the snow to Lou's grave that night, 
And the black of the earth was made pure white. 



THE LITTLE BRASS TEAKETTLE 

" T KNEW you were feeling a bit sad to-day/' 

1 Said the little brass teakettle, singing away, 
11 So I thought I 'd just keep steaming up 
With joy and gladness to fill your cup. 

"You are tired, honey; I hear your sighs, 
And the homesick tears are in your eyes, 
So I '11 sing to you love's old refrain, 
'T will bring sweetheart days back again. 

"I '11 sing until old murmurs creep 
Through your soul like balmy sleep, 
And you will soon forget how long 
The nights have been, the days gone wrong. 

"You '11 forget all sorrow's hidden ways, 
The sobbing of hearts and filled-up graves, 
And little by little your soul will know 
Life as sweet as it was years ago. 

"I '11 sing of the orchards where blossoms blew 
And the robins drank of the cooling dew, 
Of a strong soul pleading with love athirst 
Who knew God's ways, but held you first. 
130 



THE LITTLE BRASS TEAKETTLE I3I 

"I '11 sing of a garden all your own, 
With mignonette and lilacs blown, 
The sweet perfume the sun threads drew 
From out their souls and brought to you. 

"1 11 sing my song the evening through, 
Just sing away for the tea you '11 brew, 
While the fire burns bright here in the hall, ' 
And the dear old clock stands straight and tall." 



Dear little teakettle, you know the way 

To the heart that 's been "bowed down" all day. 

Dreams, memories, death; what is it all? 

Just struggle and struggle, slip and fall. 

Yes, I 'm listening; I '11 trust and wait; 
No dread of change, no thought of fate. 
Your song hath soothed with tenderest touch 
My cowardly heart that feared so much. 

No tears of gloom shall dim my eyes, 
Just keep a-smiling like summer skies, 
And I '11 not envy a soul in the land 
While my little kettle sings on the stand. 

With love I '11 freight all my ships, 
A song or a whistle upon my lips, 
And if life's thorns grow " knee-deep," 
I '11 ask the Father "my soul to keep." 



132 THE LITTLE BRASS TEAKETTLE 

In this world such little things 

Take away the heart's big stings; 

I '11 pray to God adown all my years, 

Like the kettle, I '11 sing the song that cheers. 



MAY 10 191? 



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Treatment Date: Oct. 2009 

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